Dragon of the Island (26 page)

“Perhaps it is different here,” Aurora said
thoughtfully. “I can remember my sisters whispering about the
hilltop festivals. They said that people took off their clothes and
danced naked around the fires, and young women were sometimes
dragged off and ravished. We had a maid who was found to be
pregnant soon after attending a festival.”

“If your maid went with a man, I’m sure it
was willingly,” Gwenaseth answered. “It is not uncommon for couples
to make love in celebration, but no woman is forced.”

“So, there is lovemaking?” Aurora asked, her
eyes wide.

“Of course. Lughnasa is a celebration of
life and fertility. There is something special about making love
around the sacred fires, and afterwards many women find themselves
with child. It is also a time when a woman can couple with a man
other than her husband, and no one will consider her
unfaithful.”

Aurora stared in disbelief, and Gwenaseth
watched her closely. “Would you like to do that—go with another man
besides Maelgwn?”

Aurora gave a grim, tense laugh. “It would
be interesting to see if another man could want me for myself,
instead of my father’s lands and wealth.” She sighed. “It doesn’t
matter. I’m sure Maelgwn wouldn’t let any other man near me, no
matter what the custom.”

“Oh, even Maelgwn would not dare protest,”
Gwenaseth said confidently. “Lovemaking during Lughnasa is sacred,
and even a king must accept what happens.”

“All the same, it is unlikely. I cannot
imagine any man willing to risk Maelgwn’s wrath.”

“Aurora,” Gwenaseth asked carefully. “Are
things still so bad between the two of you?”

Aurora looked away, trying to hide the tears
that swam in her eyes. She didn’t want anyone, even Gwenaseth, to
know how much Maelgwn’s abrupt departure had hurt her.

“Perhaps I should change clothes before our
guests arrive,” she answered. “Here, help me with the clasp on my
necklace.”

It was not going to be as easy as he
thought, Maelgwn mused glumly, staring at the crowd of people
celebrating in the great hall. He had returned to Caer Eryri
determined to ignore Aurora and prove to her—and himself—how
unimportant she was to his life. But things had not gone as he had
planned. The first sight of Aurora hit him like a blow. She looked
ravishing as she stood at the gate to greet their guests, and when
she smiled her enchanting smile at Abelgirth, Maelgwn felt his
stomach twist with jealousy. He had wanted to run away again, but
he could not. He had been forced to stand beside Aurora and
introduce her to all his guests and then sit next to her at the
feast. It was torture to be so close to her and remember that he
had vowed not to touch her.

He breathed a sigh of relief when she left
to join the dancing, but he soon found that this was no better. He
could not help watching her as she twirled and swayed to the music,
and he was sure that every other man in the room was watching and
wanting her as well. The jealousy rose thick and choking in his
throat, all the more bitter because Aurora’s smile seemed to be
meant for every man but him.

“What is wrong, Maelgwn?” Abelgirth asked,
coming to stand beside his host. “You look as if you had been
eating something that tasted bad.”

“Did I? It must have been a passing thought
that angered me. Anyway, it is gone now.”

“Your wife certainly seems to be enjoying
herself,” Abelgirth murmured, gesturing to Aurora. “Frankly, if I
had a wife who looked like that, I would think about locking her
away and keeping her for myself.”

Maelgwn nearly choked on his wine, and then
gave Abelgirth a long, cold stare. He walked away, leaving his
friend to gape after him in surprise.

Maelgwn knew he had to get out of the hall,
out of the smoky room filled with sweaty, happy people. He slipped
out into the cool night and walked toward the gate. The moon had
grown since he went to Llanfaglon, and there was plenty of light to
show the way. The bored, weary guard looked down in surprise as
Maelgwn’s boots crunched on the gravel.

“Who goes... Maelgwn! Is something
wrong?”

“Nah, nah. I am just out for a walk this
fine night. I am going down to the village. If Balyn or any of my
officers come looking for me—tell them.”

The guard looked curious, but he nodded
obediently.

Maelgwn continued his leisurely pace down
the hillside track. The air was faintly warm and filmy, and Maelgwn
inhaled the sweetness of it. Some flower was in bloom, and it
reminded him of being a boy and playing outside in the summer
night. He sighed. It was so long ago. His childhood had been cut
short so soon. If he ever had a son, he would want him to have a
chance to be a boy longer, before he took up the weighty problems
of being a man.

A cloud passed over the moon, but despite
the shadow of darkness, Maelgwn had no trouble finding his way. It
had been a long time—nearly three moon cycles—since he had followed
this particular path, but the way was familiar, well-worn,
comfortable. Maelgwn reached the village and paused where the
pathway veered off. He knew what he would find when he came to the
end of it: the rough, well-patched hut, the low fire banked for the
night, the bed of sheepskins and furs, and the woman—Morganna—dark
blond hair, placid brown eyes and a warm body smelling of smoke and
earth.

Maelgwn sighed. How long could he go on
pretending that it was another woman he needed? He had tried that
at Llanfaglon. When Abelgirth sent the dark-haired girl to him,
Maelgwn had been tense with expectant desire. But after one look at
the girl’s shrewd, pretty face, he had sent her away. She was not
Aurora, and there was no hope she would satisfy the aching longing
within him.

It was the same with Morganna. He cared for
her, truly he did. But it was not love or desire that had first
driven him to her bed, but pity. After what he had known with
Aurora it was not enough.

He turned away. It seemed too late to return
to the fortress. He would have to sleep outdoors, under the stars.
It was a perfect night—warm, soft and as gentle as a lover. Maelgwn
found a sheltering tree on the hillside and lay down, cradling his
head on a pile of dry leaves.

When he woke early in the morning, the mist
was still gray upon the hills and the thrushes and plovers were
calling softly through the growing light. He stood up, glancing
toward Caer Eryri. The faded stones of the fortress beckoned to
him. He watched as the high towers rose gleaming above the
mists.

He sighed softly. It was no use. He wanted
Aurora more than ever. No other woman would ever satisfy him. He
wanted that dangerous passion that burned through his flesh through
his very bones. He looked up longingly at the high tower. Aurora
would be asleep. He longed to go to her, to feel her silken skin
against his, to shiver beneath the soft curtain of her hair. But he
dared not. He’d been cruel to his wife, greeted her with cold
disdain and then ignored her at the feast. He could not expect her
to welcome him back to her bed now, not a haughty, spoiled little
princess like her. Why, he’d be lucky if she did not try to push
him down the stairs!

Maelgwn made his way to the river, still
tense with desire and frustration. The sun was burning away the
mist, and the morning chill was leaving him. He followed the worn
pathway down to the water. The river was low this time of year, and
the current ran swiftly but quietly. Maelgwn shed his grimy
clothes—the worn wool tunic, the leather trousers, his loose hide
boots with their soles reinforced with bronze studs—and waded into
the water up to his hips. The water was cool, nearly cold, and it
woke him up quickly.

He took a deep breath and plunged in,
feeling the water wash away the sweat and dust from his skin. He
wished he had brought some soap so he could wash his hair, but he
could do that later when he shaved. He leaned back in the water,
enjoying the buoyancy of his own body. Ah, this was way to bathe,
not like the Romans with their warm water and tiled bathhouses. No
perfumed oil could ever smell as sweet as the scent of mountain
flowers warming in the sun, no tepid bath invigorate like these
sparkling cool currents dancing over the rocks.

His mind turned to the Lughnasa festival,
and Maelgwn felt a vague sense of unease. Tonight the spirit of the
gods would be contagious. Many people would shed their clothes to
escape the heat of the fires and dance more freely, and couples
would go off into the shadows to honor the Old Ones with
lovemaking. What if Aurora should go off with another man? Would he
be able to endure it, knowing that someone else was touching her,
enjoying her smooth, burning flesh?

Maelgwn shook off the image with a shiver.
If it did happen, he dared not interfere. The ceremony belonged to
the old gods, it honored the Lord and Lady. He must let things
happen, feel the power of the night, the fires, the music. He must
not let his jealousy interfere with the ancient tradition.

When he was done bathing, Maelgwn left the
river and dressed on the bank. Despite his doubts, he felt better
than he had in days, as if the quick dip had washed away some of
his anger and frustration. It was no use denying that he cared for
Aurora. He was almost willing to go to her and make amends. It
would be worth it to have her back as his wife. He headed toward
Caer Eryri, enjoying the feel of the earth beneath his boots, the
sun on his damp back. He was always in awe of the way the light hit
the walls of the fortress in the morning, turning the stones to
gold. As he neared, the illusion faded, and the walls were gray and
crumbling again.

As he entered the gate, Maelgwn nodded at
the guard and then headed toward the kitchen. He was hungry,
starved actually.

* * *

Aurora woke with a headache that began
behind her eyes and spread throughout her body. She sat on the edge
of the bed as the agony flickered through her. Why had she done
this to herself? She had always been careful not to drink too much
wine at feasts and festivals. Last night she had been working so
hard to make Maelgwn jealous she had forgotten to be cautious.

Aurora rose from the bed unsteadily. Her
plan had worked so well at first. The hall had been crowded with
Maelgwn’s soldiers. They’d come to Caer Eryri for the Lughnasa
festival and left their women and children behind in the hills.
They were eager to dance and flirt with the pretty new queen, and
their attentions had certainly had the desired effect. The few
times she allowed herself a glance in Maelgwn’s direction, Aurora
had been gratified by the glum, miserable look on his face. But
then Maelgwn disappeared, and her game lost its charm. She
continued to dance and flirt recklessly, but inside, her heart was
sinking. She could not help wondering where Maelgwn was, and why he
did not return to the feast. She was relieved when Balyn came to
see her to bed.

Aurora looked around the messy room,
searching for her clothes. If only Gwenaseth would come to her. She
badly needed a drink of fresh water, and her stomach burned with
something like hunger. Then she remembered. It was Gwenaseth’s
wedding day, and she had told her to sleep as late as she wished.
She would have to do without her help today.

Somehow she managed to put on her clothes
and untangle her hair. She left the tower and set off across the
courtyard toward the bakehouse. The courtyard was crowded with
people this morning. Aurora saw several men she had danced with the
night before, and they smiled sheepishly at her. Aurora felt too
weak and miserable to smile back. She walked on, hoping that food
would help her feel better.

When she reached the bakehouse, she entered
and leaned against the rough stone walls. Unlike most new buildings
at Caer Eryri, which were constructed of timber, the bakehouse was
built of stone to lessen the hazard of fire. Even in summer the
walls were cool. It felt good to rest her throbbing head and steady
her queasy stomach before she went to find a fresh loaf for
breakfast.

She was feeling better when she heard the
wooden door open. She looked up, expecting to see one of the
kitchen slaves, but instead, her eyes met Esylt’s dark-browed
face.

Esylt smiled. “I see our new queen has the
common touch,” she said delightedly. “Last night she mingled with
the soldiers and freemen, and this morning she goes to fetch her
own breakfast.”

Aurora held her breath. It seemed best not
to respond to Esylt, but to let her speak her hateful, venomous
words so she would leave Aurora in peace.

“But it appears that my brother prefers
common women,” Esylt continued. “I don’t suppose you wondered where
Maelgwn slept last night?”

Aurora didn’t answer. It was clear that
Esylt wanted only to taunt her.

“Of course, it is not the first night he has
spent with the village whore. He has been going to her for a long
time. It seems Morganna and you have much in common, although she
does not dress so finely or hold herself so haughtily.”

Aurora dared not meet Esylt’s contemptuous
stare. There was not enough air in the humid bakehouse to breathe.
She leaned heavily against the wall, praying that Esylt would
leave.

“Are you jealous, sweet Aurora?” Esylt asked
mockingly. “I’m sure you can find a man to warm your cold bed. You
have only to flash your little cat eyes at a man, and he comes
running. Of course, Maelgwn will kill you if he finds out; he is
very jealous. It seems to be a weakness you both share. So, perhaps
it would be best if you went back to Viroconium.”

Esylt glared at Aurora for a long moment, as
if giving her one last measure of hatred. Then she turned and
stalked out the door.

Aurora barely had time to move away from the
wall and lean over before she began to retch, spilling out the sour
remains of her stomach on the dirt floor of the bakehouse. When she
was done, her stomach felt better, although her head was worse.
Esylt’s gleeful voice still rang in her ears. Was it true? Had
Maelgwn really gone to a harlot last night?